Two-Front Warfare
by artsc
Summary: Beca is fighting a two-front war. Blitzkrieg from Chloe and civil war on her own territory would mean death for an inexperienced commander. But Beca knows better. History class might just save her yet. High School AU. T because Beca feels the need to swear a lot.
1. Chapter 1

_Do not be frightened by the first word of this story. Anyways, High School AU, more characters will come later, and that's about it. Oh yeah, if you don't get a history joke, look it up. It'll make this more entertaining._

* * *

"Hitler lost because he couldn't handle a two-front war and when D-Day came, he had to split his forces and Germany was screwed. Stalin was all like, 'Dude, you filled your role, now it's time to die,' and Britain was like, 'Yeah, and we have the U.S. to back us up,' but France was kind of caught in the middle. But that didn't really change anything until later. Anyways, long story short, Blitzkrieg only works against trenches."

Beca liked history. She really did. And Mr. Graham was a great teacher. He knew how to teach, and he loved his job. And although Beca usually paid the most attention to history, she wasn't in the mood today.

Chloe.

Chloe Beale.

The redhead right next to her, and therefore her automatic partner for anything; the redhead who smelled like cherries even though she had gym right before (Beca assured herself she was not a stalker and was convinced that Chloe told her at some point), drove her mad. Especially today. She forgot her textbook, and was leaning over to share with Beca.

Mr. Graham was setting up his next presentation when the bell rang.

"Okay, remember that you have those two packets to read and a few pages to take notes on. But most importantly, remember your new partner project. See you tomorrow."

The project.

_Present the history of one of the following countries in one of the World Wars: Germany, Russia/USSR, USA, Great Britain, France, Italy, Austria, Poland, Czechoslovakia, Serbia, Spain, Japan, China. Some countries will only have significance in one World War, or only small significance. Each pair will present one country for the duration of the Pre-War/WWI/Interwar (Great Depression!)/WWII era in any format, including: PowerPoint, Song, Speech, Skit, Video, Interview. Be creative. Worth 50 points._

Beca and Chloe got France. It didn't seem too hard, but then again, that's what everyone always said about Mr. Graham's projects. They were always wrong.

The class poured out of the room like it was contaminated with the plague, but Beca stayed behind. She had study hall next, and she usually spent it with Mr. Graham in his room. That's what happens when you're a closet history nerd and your teacher is one of your closest friends.

Before Chloe could leave, though, Beca called her back.

"Um, we should work on the project today. I, uh, you have lunch now, so I figured we could maybe eat and work?" Beca mentally slapped herself for her lack of social skills. Then she mentally kicked herself in the balls (again, mentally) when Chloe nodded and said yes.

"Let me just grab something to eat from downstairs, and them we can get started!" Chloe always sounded excited. Normally, it would irk Beca to no end. But with Chloe, that near-constant perkiness just fit. It wasn't forced. If anything, Beca appreciated honesty.

She watched her partner (fuck that sounds weird) practically bounce out of the room. Beca turned and gave a questioning glance to Mr. Graham, who nodded and waved her over.

"Beca, something's up. I know it. You clearly know it. Spill." Again with honesty.

"I really don't know, and that's kind of my problem," Beca explained. "I mean, I've been, um, yeah. I don't know."

Beca knew exactly what was going on.

She had been, in her words, "off" the past few days. Weeks. Months. For the past year, she had been "struggling." She was confused and it was worse than Honors Physics.

"Is it this class? Because you've been doing great, you have nothing to worry about. If it's another class, I can try to-"

"No, it's not that," Beca piped up. "Well, physics sucks, but that's not the point."

"Good, because I'm in the same boat with you on that one. Just hope we aren't the Lusitania." Mr. Graham smiled. Laughing at his own joke.

"I don't know, but it sure feels like Germany has some U-boats following me around," Beca joked, quickly catching on to Mr. Graham's point. "Actually, I think this is more World War II. My trenches don't seem to be working, and Germany's pulling out Blitzkrieg. Not to mention Germany has me split down the middle. I'm not sure if the Allies will win this one."

"Ah, you've done your reading! France. Split into North and South, anti- and pro-German occupation."

"Exactly. And D-Day isn't happening. Germany's winning."

"I think the question is, do you want that to happen?'

Bingo. Spot on. That was the question.

Mr. Graham checked the clock and grabbed a folder stuffed with papers.

"I have a quick meeting. I trust you and Chloe not to kill anything."

And with that, he was out the door.

In the empty classroom, Beca carried on the conversation in her head. Then out loud, when her head couldn't contain everything.

"Mr. Graham, thank you for clearing up that critical point. Now for a revelation akin to that of the Nazi-Soviet nonaggression pact: I-"

"Am I interrupting something?"

Shit.

Chloe.

"No, no, just, um, I have a speech for English in a few days. Just practicing," Beca said hurriedly. "Anyways, chicken fingers. Good choice." Fuck.

"Yeah, well, it's one of the few non-repulsing things they sell here. Do you need to grab lunch?" Another thing about Chloe was that she was genuinely nice.

"Nah, I have it later," Beca said as she grabbed her laptop from her backpack. "Anyways, France. France. Yeah."

"I was thinking we could stage a kind of interpretive skit about France in the World Wars."

"Like-?"

"I don't know, I was thinking maybe like a romantic comedy. If you don't want to do that, I get it. It's weird, I know."

"No, yeah, we can do that."

Romantic comedy.

Shit.


	2. Chapter 2

Beca's thirteen-inch Macbook was easily visible from another desk an appropriate distance away, yet Chloe insisted on dragging her desk closer so that Beca was practically trapped in her own desk. Chloe really did smell like cherries. Beca was certain of it. Also something else, though. Grass? Probably from gym.

"Since this was your idea, why don't you start typing out a draft and we'll see where we can take it? It doesn't have to be detailed or anything, just enough to get a better picture." And to give Beca a minute to think without her thought being invaded by fruit.

Chloe seemed to have no shame in proximity to other people. Even though she was typing away on Beca's laptop, she was close. Their shoulders brushed together every time Chloe hit enter or reached for a chicken finger.

Beca watched as something resembling a script grew on the screen. Odd commentary, such as "tape" and "paint," needed explanation. It worried Beca, to be honest. With history, the one thing she knew, it was terrifying to not know something.

Mr. Graham walked in and out every ten minutes or so, with little more to say than "How's Germany?" and "Even Henry Putin had to work hard."

Chloe hit enter with a flourish and turned the computer to Beca.

11:27 A.M. May 29. The day Beca admitted it to herself, and the day Beca was tortured by it. The day Beca nearly fell out of her chair when she saw exactly what Chloe meant.

Split down the middle, Beca would represent France, with Chloe as Germany. Beca would be conflicted as to whether or not she wanted to be with Germany. In Chloe's eyes, it was just a clever idea. To Beca, it was painful to think about.

"So, we'll use tape to divide you in half, and maybe get face paint to emphasize the division. Then we'll start by arguing over Alsace-Lorraine, and how you're still mad about the Franco-Prussian War and the Thirty Years War."

Beca was impressed. She nodded as Chloe spoke, piecing the concept together in her mind.

"Yeah, and we could have you start to go crazy at the end with a split personality, because of the four zones," Beca added, starting to get more into the idea. "The Maginot Line could be like a metaphor or something."

"Yes, yes," Chloe muttered, returning to type the new flow of ideas.

The bell rang.

"Well, um, I guess that's it for today," Beca said, scooting her desk away from Chloe's. Chloe reached out a hand.

"I'm really excited about this."

"Me too." Beca's smile was too big and too idiotic to not be noticed. Chloe returned the grin with one of her own, although less enthusiastically.

/

Beca had Political Science next. In the exact same room, with Mr. Graham. The first day of class, he put her in the same seat as in the period before, just for kicks. It kind of became Beca's home base. Especially since she also spent her study halls in there.

The congregation of sophomores, juniors, and seniors almost always argued for the entire time over liberal and conservative policies, while Mr. Graham slipped opening statements and verdicts from different cases to Beca, complete with his own historical annotations.

This time, though, Mr. Graham knew something was up, as he previously brought up. Beca avoided his gaze all through class. She knew that he knew that she knew that he knew. But there was something he didn't know.

The period passed quickly, as it usually did. What wasn't usual was Chloe standing outside of the door when the bell rang.

"Hey, history buff," Chloe said, as if it was known all along. She grabbed Beca's hand and led them to the stairwell. "I got the paint from the art room, and I 'borrowed' Mrs. Anderson's masking tape."

Beca would have tried to squirm out of Chloe's grasp, but the light pressure felt reassuring. She lost herself in her thoughts, the same thoughts she was still trying to figure out, when she heard "-and we should get together to practice some time. Is tonight good?"

Tonight.

Beca blinked, hesitated, and then tripped over her tongue.

"Yeah. I'll text you my address and you can come around six? We can order a pizza or something."

"Sounds good! Will you hold on to these?" Chloe held out the paint and tape, which Beca took and chuckled at the fact that it seemed completely normal to exchange them at the top of a stairwell surrounded by about thirty other students wondering why they even had them in the first place.

Chloe nodded and turned to go down the stairs. Beca watched, transfixed by Chloe's bright hair bobbing up and down among the crowd of heads.

/

Six. Two pizzas, a liter of orange juice, and a pack of Oreos. Add in two teenagers, an attempt at witty writing, and confusion, and the result is awkward.

Beca sat against the couch, and Chloe was lying out on the floor. Quiet music that was supposed to be loud strained to be heard over the tapping and clicking of typing. They had rushed down to the basement at Beca's request, to avoid her mom.

It didn't work.

"Beca, are you down there?"

"Yeah, Mom, just doing homework with Chloe."

"Chloe? Who's that?"

"Hi!" Chloe piped in.

"Oh, hello! You two need anything?"

"No, Mom, we're good."

"Why didn't you tell me you brought a girl over?"  
"MOM! Please, homework."

"Okay, but if you need anything, I'll be up here."

Beca knew what that meant. First, her mom would be ready with a talk about sex, because her mom suspected what she had been mulling over for quite a while now. Second, her mom would be at the door, listening intently to find any bit of information she could.

"You're mom is really enthusiastic."

Leave it to Chloe to find the good in that.

"Yeah, she's good at that. Anyways," Beca turned the computer to Chloe, "I like the idea you have going here. We just need to beef it up with facts and the actual skit."

"I second that motion, prime minister."

"President. France has presidents. At least, it did after the wars." Beca's correction was immediate, leaving Chloe gaping for a response. "Sorry, I just- habit."

"That was cool, do you just know that, off hand?" Chloe pulled the laptop over and poised her hands on the keyboard.

"Yeah. Things that already happened tend to make more sense than those that haven't even started yet. It's a story, really. You just have to pay attention to the details," Beca said, smiling.

Chloe scrolled up on the document and located the part she was thinking about.

"Here, when you're being split, what can we add?"

"Make sure Henry Putin is in there somewhere for Vichy. Then De Gaulle for Northern France."

By the way Chloe was typing, she took the advice to heart.

Beca watched her bite her lip as she thought through her story. Chloe mouthed the words and directions as she typed, reminding Beca that she sucked at reading lips.

Fuck, it was hard enough to deal with her in class. But there she was, just being Chloe, and she still managed to drive Beca into her own civil war.


End file.
